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Chapter One: Reflections
My mama always told me to think before I act, or speak. I should'a listened to her. Then I wouldn't be in the mess I'm in now. Mama also said that if I ever came to a crossroad and I didn't know which way to turn I should look at my reflection and see myself and only then should I consider which way to go.

I'm staring at my reflection now and all I see is the same face I've always seen. My hair is a mess of streaky blonde, my eyes belong to my mama, a splash of dirt is on my chin and a small scar marks my left brow where I got in a scuffle with the my friends and cut myself during the bout against a sharp stone. But perhaps mama didn't mean to look in a mud puddle, but what else am I to do?

Today Jasper wants me to answer his request for me to join him and become the heir to his throne. Mama is furious that I even met him but I can't break her heart anymore than I have by telling her what he asks of me. I only want to make her life easier, I want to make it so that she doesn't have to make her hands bleed doing the washing or have to watch my sister go hungry because she can't afford milk since her own never came. I don't want Mama to suffer anymore, I want don't want her to be poor. And Jasper says he can change that and all I have to do is sign a contract…

Stupid puddle.

"Hey Terry, what'cha lookin' at?" I turned away from my thoughts to see my friend Roland trotting my way, his cheery demeanor made me crack a smile of my own. He always looked so silly with his red hair in a tangled mess so long that I could barely see his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief. Something was amiss and he caused it. Just like always.

"Oh, nothin', jest a puddle of mud I'm considerin'." I replied in the drawl most of the boys I knew used. Mama taught me how to speak real proper but it doesn't gain me any friends to sound like I'm above my peers.

"Considerin'," he asked, clearly puzzled,"What'cha considerin' a mud puddle for?" He paused and suddenly he grinned, revealing his missing front teeth, "Awe, Terry, you thinkin' of makin' the guards hoot and holler and turn all shades?"

I gave him one of my most sinister of smiles, which, my mama says it's very similar to the smile I have when upsetting Mrs. O'Breen's chickens. Roland clucked and threw an arm around my shoulders. "Yer so smart, Terry. I wish I was smart like you. But I don't have a mama who can teach me m'letters and m'manners" He didn't sound envious or even in the least bit mocking; he sounded like he always did, light of heart despite the reality of life.

"Thanks," I told him, but I know I didn't sound sincere. My mind still swam with doubt as we gathered up the muddle puddle and carried it, still dripping, in our hands towards the gate. There a dozy guardsman always slept. He didn't usually have to do much, Querta is a safe enough place during the day because none of Jasper's followers dare catch the attention of authority lest they face the consequences. I myself do not want to lose a finger, or a hand, or have my arm broken at the joint, or any other number of punishments that come with violence or thieving.

Roland swept past me once we reached a spice stand, the smell of his goods making my eyes water and burn. But soon we both stood shoulder to shoulder behind a stack of crates, which judging by the foul odor, held fish of some sort. Acting first, Roland climbed the side of the crates and studied the snoozing guardsman. Then, he drew back his arm and flung the mud. It didn't reach its target…

An aristocrat, or as mama calls them, blue blood, passed between the mud and the guard and his finery ended up being the victim. The blue blood turned towards Roland, eyes flashing dangerously and pointed a finger at him as he yelled, "Guard, seize him!"

Roland yelped, the guardsman jumped, and I began to wonder if this day was going to get any worse.

Another thing mama always said: The worst does not happen until you ask if it will arrive. Then, invited, it brings upon you its fury.

I dropped the mud in my hands and urged Roland to run. Instead he stood there like a deer enthralled by the hunter who aimed a bow at its throat. I ended up grabbing the back of his trousers, and that was when my question was answered. The day got worse.

Roland stumbled and fell backwards on top of me, crushing the air out of my lungs. Then the crates we balanced on began to shift and then they toppled over as well. Roland scrambled off me and clawed his way through the crowd until he disappeared, leaving me breathless and stunned. Unable to react, the crates of fish came tumbling down and all I could do was watch. The thought of dying raced through my head and I began wondering what it would feel like.

***

I've been asked before how a child of my age knew how to speak the way I do. They say I sound like an adult rather than a prattling child who holds all of eight years. Even mama wonders, but she sometimes mutters about the players who come to town sometimes and their strange ways of speaking.

When I next opened my eyes, darkness greeted me, as did the voice of a stranger.

"You've a mighty strange way of talkin' boy. I aint never heard no one tell tales in their sleep and what strange tales they were… Easy, boy, you gotta take it slow, ye have a knot on yer skull the size of a chicken's egg." I blinked, the voice sounded kind enough, sort of accented and rough and clearly female, but I've always tried to be wary of strangers. "Come on now boy, ye were yammerin' while ye slept so I think you can talk fine now that ye aint addled."

"Where am I and who are you?" I asked --my voice wavering as my whole body trembled with my efforts to sit up.

The woman placed a hand on my shoulder, a large hand, strong and steadfast. "Call me Dusk and can't ye tell we are? In the city o'course. I was told to keep by ye till ye woke up."

Tilting my head slightly, I noticed groggy light filtering around a doorframe.

"Whose house am I in?"

Dusk chuckled and lifted her hands from my shoulders, the absence of their weight making me feel lighter. "No house, only city. This here is yer room, boy. Jasper said he hadn't expected you to see it quite yet, don't know why, looks real finished to me. But he said it was yer room and it was where yer gunna sleep till yer back up and about."

Jasper. His name hit me in the belly and made my head throb painfully.

"Tut, boy, ye look pale as a ghost, I can see ye even in the dark. Healer did say ye'd need time to get back yer color, but still…" Dusk sounded soft and slightly sad as she strode away, her steps heavy, her skirts brushing the ground. I didn't want to fall asleep, but after the door opened and closed, leaving me once again in darkness, I closed my eyes.

Dreamlessness followed, as did a rude awakening.

A crash of glass against stone rattled me to the point that I nearly leapt from where I lay asleep. Jarred and heavy with sleep, I stumbled towards the door and tugged it open. Outside, lit by the foggy glow of the sputtering torches, stood Dusk, all around her feet lay broken shards. I opened my mouth to speak, but found myself silenced as she knelt to the ground and began to stare distantly at the glass.

I had never seen such a large woman before in my life, nor one so dark, until that moment but that wasn't why I stared. Her rugged features, her slashed brows, her meaty arms—all of it spoke for a person of immense power and strength, yet she kneeled among the shards of glass, a thick finger slowly reaching out and gently resting on the delicate remains with child-like caution.

After a moment, she rose, her smoke-colored hair tousled and her fawn skirts rumpled. Sweat beaded on her brow but she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand and as if nothing had happened, she met my gaze with motherly adoration before gathering up the glass in her bare hands. She did not flinch. Either the glass did not break her skin or Dusk refused to show any sign of weakness.

I could only watch as she walked away, my thoughts muddled with sleep. But when she disappeared, I let out a ragged sigh. I was in the Thief City. There was no leaving until Jasper allowed me to. Unlike Querta above, this city is a labyrinth that can hold secrets forever if it must, buried beneath the layers of dirt and stone. Underground and its entrances carefully guarded, this city is perhaps one of the most secure in all of Xohlia. But no one leaves or comes without reason or swearing loyalty to the King unless he wishes to lose his life.

Lowering my gaze, I stepped back into the room. Fatigue crashed into me like liquid ice and crawled from the back of my neck down all the way to my toes. As I wearily made my way back to bed, I noticed a hitch in my step due to a newly uneven stride. My left arm felt especially weak but I didn't dare look to see why nor did I check the wound that began to throb on my skull. Sleep. I needed sleep. Dusk must have given me something to dull the pain of my injuries and to make me feel dead tired. I suspected that the next time I woke I would know exactly why I limped and why my arm felt so useless.

After collapsing on the bed, I fell asleep. Deeply and soundly.

***

"No Jasper," my voice wavered as I spoke. I never knew that it would be so hard to tell one man 'no', but Jasper knows exactly how to get under my skin. His gaze is ever steady, those pale robin's egg blue eyes never showing any sign of retreat. In fact, he smiled and let out an amused sigh as he leaned back in his chair. He is a fair colored man, pale of skin and hair and his features elegant aside from his slightly off-centered nose. It puzzled me that he became the King of Thieves when he could have certainly charmed his way up in the world.

Those fine features became only slightly harsh as he considered what I said more earnestly. He rested his chin on his palm and leaned forwards, suddenly looking bemused as if he could not believe that I was serious about rejecting his offer. "Pardon?" He asked, "You said no…?"

Jasper became very still before then slammed his fists against the desk that lay before him and leapt to his full height. Scowling, he was certainly a dangerous looking man, the scars that threaded along his cheek suddenly visible in shadow.

"Aye, Jaser, I said no." Fool. I knew that second, I opened my mouth that whatever I said was going to be a fool's move. The King darkened even more, his gaze spitting daggers as he clenched his jaw and leaned precariously closer to me. My mouth went dry and my legs became soft as butter.

"Consider what lays on the line, boy," Jasper said quietly, his voice hardly rising above a whisper. "Your little family could be brought from the brink of poverty and back to the middle class. Goddess sakes, in Querta your family could even raise to nobility if all the cards were played right. Think of what you are denying yourself… No, think of what you deny your dear mother…"

"She's done fine on what I bring home," my retort was weak, I knew that every day she struggled to scrap up a meal for her baby, much less for herself since father's elixir cost her most of the coin she does have.

Jasper narrowed his eyes. "Think of your little sister then. Blue-skinned, not at all like your mother or father. Her blood is that of those barbaric Xzthen-born elves of the southern coast, hated and scorned. Do you wish her a fate of misery? Stay as you are and she will no doubt be killed one way or another, if not by hunger but by those street rats you call peers. Suspicious, superstitious lot they are. And you cannot protect her always."

"You're the King of those street rats!"

My exclamation only made Jasper smile coldly. Bending closer he hissed. "That may be, but not all my followers respect all aspects of the Thieves Code. Some folk are desperate and do not walk within my circle of control. There are plenty of people in this world who will happily take the life of a young, dark elf girl before she can grow up. Do you want to put her life on the line, especially when it could so easily snap?"

Shivers went down my spine and I closed my eyes. I love Mirage. She isn't my father's child but she is still my baby sister and I would do anything to make things better for her. Jasper knows this.

"Why must I be the one to do this?" I found myself asking.

"Because, my boy," Jasper said, his tone pleasant and patient as he straightened his back, "you have all the reasons to agree and the potential I need in an heir. All you have to do is sign a piece of paper…"

"In blood!" I snapped. He had already told me what I had to do to make everything final. I had to write my full name, in my own blood, on a piece of parchment with a special enchantment bound to it. By signing it, the contract bound me to every detail unless Jasper voided part of it, how he does so I do not know.

"Yes, in blood. That is how it works… So, will you sign it or not?"

I shook my head in frustration. He had me cornered and there was no escape. I knew that if I managed to talk my way out of the contract he would go out of his way to hurt me and my family just to get his revenge. Cruelty comes easily to Jasper, I could see it in his eyes.

Hot tears ran down my cheeks as I managed to croak one last complaint. "I've only eight years. I'm a child in body and an infant in the eyes of my kind."

"But you've the mind of a man of many more years. You can think with more reason than almost everyone in this city. Terry, you are brilliant, talented, and all you have to do to guarantee that your kin is well cared for is to sign on the line. You are quite smart enough to understand what I am offering. So do not plead ignorance."

But ignorance was what I felt. Suddenly I was a child of no more than eight standing before a man of twenty and all I could do was tremble. He saw my weakness and held out a small knife and a quill. With shaking hands, I took the tools. What else could I do?

Closing my eyes, I ran the blade across the upper portion of my uninjured arm, the edge so sharp and fine that I felt no pain. But as my own blood crawled down towards my wrist, all my thoughts scattered and guilt fell heavy into my gut. Whether or not I did the right thing, the moment I touched the blood-dipped quill to the paper, my future was sealed.

My life stolen away by the King of Thieves.

I should have looked deeper into the puddle, perhaps then I would have seen what mama talked about when she said to reflect before making a choice. I should have stayed home when mama told me to. I should have listened to mama when she said not to go a thieving. I should have done so many things differently…

As I drew the quill away from the paper, I opened one eye. Jasper snatched up the contract and grinned like a hungry dragon ready to gobble up his next meal.

"Congratulations Terry, you are now my heir. The follower in my footsteps should any wrong come my way." Jasper announced with a chuckle before he muttered to himself, "Pray to the Goddess you live to see that day." So I prayed. I sank to my knees, blood still running down my arm, my face buried in my hands and silently begged the Goddess to forgive me and to give me her guidance. How I wished it all to be over and to be in mama's arms again. I even curled myself into a ball and cried for her as I've never done before. But then again, I'd never felt like a child of eight years until that moment. How easily things escape one's control…

Goddess give me strength.

Description
Chapter One: Reflections
My mama always told me to think before I act, or speak. I should'a listened to her. Then I wouldn't be in the mess I'm in now. Mama also said that if I ever came to a crossroad and I didn't know which way to turn I should look at my reflection and see myself and only then should I consider which way to go.

I'm staring at my reflection now and all I see is the same face I've always seen. My hair is a mess of streaky blonde, my eyes belong to my mama, a splash of dirt is on my chin and a small scar marks my left brow where I got in a scuffle with the my friends and cut myself during the bout against a sharp stone. But perhaps mama didn't mean to look in a mud puddle, but what else am I to do?

Today Jasper wants me to answer his request for me to join him and become the heir to his throne. Mama is furious that I even met him but I can't break her heart anymore than I have by telling her what he asks of me. I only want to make her life easier, I want to make it so that she doesn't have to make her hands bleed doing the washing or have to watch my sister go hungry because she can't afford milk since her own never came. I don't want Mama to suffer anymore, I want don't want her to be poor. And Jasper says he can change that and all I have to do is sign a contract…

Stupid puddle.

"Hey Terry, what'cha lookin' at?" I turned away from my thoughts to see my friend Roland trotting my way, his cheery demeanor made me crack a smile of my own. He always looked so silly with his red hair in a tangled mess so long that I could barely see his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief. Something was amiss and he caused it. Just like always.

"Oh, nothin', jest a puddle of mud I'm considerin'." I replied in the drawl most of the boys I knew used. Mama taught me how to speak real proper but it doesn't gain me any friends to sound like I'm above my peers.

"Considerin'," he asked, clearly puzzled,"What'cha considerin' a mud puddle for?" He paused and suddenly he grinned, revealing his missing front teeth, "Awe, Terry, you thinkin' of makin' the guards hoot and holler and turn all shades?"

I gave him one of my most sinister of smiles, which, my mama says it's very similar to the smile I have when upsetting Mrs. O'Breen's chickens. Roland clucked and threw an arm around my shoulders. "Yer so smart, Terry. I wish I was smart like you. But I don't have a mama who can teach me m'letters and m'manners" He didn't sound envious or even in the least bit mocking; he sounded like he always did, light of heart despite the reality of life.

"Thanks," I told him, but I know I didn't sound sincere. My mind still swam with doubt as we gathered up the muddle puddle and carried it, still dripping, in our hands towards the gate. There a dozy guardsman always slept. He didn't usually have to do much, Querta is a safe enough place during the day because none of Jasper's followers dare catch the attention of authority lest they face the consequences. I myself do not want to lose a finger, or a hand, or have my arm broken at the joint, or any other number of punishments that come with violence or thieving.

Roland swept past me once we reached a spice stand, the smell of his goods making my eyes water and burn. But soon we both stood shoulder to shoulder behind a stack of crates, which judging by the foul odor, held fish of some sort. Acting first, Roland climbed the side of the crates and studied the snoozing guardsman. Then, he drew back his arm and flung the mud. It didn't reach its target…

An aristocrat, or as mama calls them, blue blood, passed between the mud and the guard and his finery ended up being the victim. The blue blood turned towards Roland, eyes flashing dangerously and pointed a finger at him as he yelled, "Guard, seize him!"

Roland yelped, the guardsman jumped, and I began to wonder if this day was going to get any worse.

Another thing mama always said: The worst does not happen until you ask if it will arrive. Then, invited, it brings upon you its fury.

I dropped the mud in my hands and urged Roland to run. Instead he stood there like a deer enthralled by the hunter who aimed a bow at its throat. I ended up grabbing the back of his trousers, and that was when my question was answered. The day got worse.

Roland stumbled and fell backwards on top of me, crushing the air out of my lungs. Then the crates we balanced on began to shift and then they toppled over as well. Roland scrambled off me and clawed his way through the crowd until he disappeared, leaving me breathless and stunned. Unable to react, the crates of fish came tumbling down and all I could do was watch. The thought of dying raced through my head and I began wondering what it would feel like.

***

I've been asked before how a child of my age knew how to speak the way I do. They say I sound like an adult rather than a prattling child who holds all of eight years. Even mama wonders, but she sometimes mutters about the players who come to town sometimes and their strange ways of speaking.

When I next opened my eyes, darkness greeted me, as did the voice of a stranger.

"You've a mighty strange way of talkin' boy. I aint never heard no one tell tales in their sleep and what strange tales they were… Easy, boy, you gotta take it slow, ye have a knot on yer skull the size of a chicken's egg." I blinked, the voice sounded kind enough, sort of accented and rough and clearly female, but I've always tried to be wary of strangers. "Come on now boy, ye were yammerin' while ye slept so I think you can talk fine now that ye aint addled."

"Where am I and who are you?" I asked --my voice wavering as my whole body trembled with my efforts to sit up.

The woman placed a hand on my shoulder, a large hand, strong and steadfast. "Call me Dusk and can't ye tell we are? In the city o'course. I was told to keep by ye till ye woke up."

Tilting my head slightly, I noticed groggy light filtering around a doorframe.

"Whose house am I in?"

Dusk chuckled and lifted her hands from my shoulders, the absence of their weight making me feel lighter. "No house, only city. This here is yer room, boy. Jasper said he hadn't expected you to see it quite yet, don't know why, looks real finished to me. But he said it was yer room and it was where yer gunna sleep till yer back up and about."

Jasper. His name hit me in the belly and made my head throb painfully.

"Tut, boy, ye look pale as a ghost, I can see ye even in the dark. Healer did say ye'd need time to get back yer color, but still…" Dusk sounded soft and slightly sad as she strode away, her steps heavy, her skirts brushing the ground. I didn't want to fall asleep, but after the door opened and closed, leaving me once again in darkness, I closed my eyes.

Dreamlessness followed, as did a rude awakening.

A crash of glass against stone rattled me to the point that I nearly leapt from where I lay asleep. Jarred and heavy with sleep, I stumbled towards the door and tugged it open. Outside, lit by the foggy glow of the sputtering torches, stood Dusk, all around her feet lay broken shards. I opened my mouth to speak, but found myself silenced as she knelt to the ground and began to stare distantly at the glass.

I had never seen such a large woman before in my life, nor one so dark, until that moment but that wasn't why I stared. Her rugged features, her slashed brows, her meaty arms—all of it spoke for a person of immense power and strength, yet she kneeled among the shards of glass, a thick finger slowly reaching out and gently resting on the delicate remains with child-like caution.

After a moment, she rose, her smoke-colored hair tousled and her fawn skirts rumpled. Sweat beaded on her brow but she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand and as if nothing had happened, she met my gaze with motherly adoration before gathering up the glass in her bare hands. She did not flinch. Either the glass did not break her skin or Dusk refused to show any sign of weakness.

I could only watch as she walked away, my thoughts muddled with sleep. But when she disappeared, I let out a ragged sigh. I was in the Thief City. There was no leaving until Jasper allowed me to. Unlike Querta above, this city is a labyrinth that can hold secrets forever if it must, buried beneath the layers of dirt and stone. Underground and its entrances carefully guarded, this city is perhaps one of the most secure in all of Xohlia. But no one leaves or comes without reason or swearing loyalty to the King unless he wishes to lose his life.

Lowering my gaze, I stepped back into the room. Fatigue crashed into me like liquid ice and crawled from the back of my neck down all the way to my toes. As I wearily made my way back to bed, I noticed a hitch in my step due to a newly uneven stride. My left arm felt especially weak but I didn't dare look to see why nor did I check the wound that began to throb on my skull. Sleep. I needed sleep. Dusk must have given me something to dull the pain of my injuries and to make me feel dead tired. I suspected that the next time I woke I would know exactly why I limped and why my arm felt so useless.

After collapsing on the bed, I fell asleep. Deeply and soundly.

***

"No Jasper," my voice wavered as I spoke. I never knew that it would be so hard to tell one man 'no', but Jasper knows exactly how to get under my skin. His gaze is ever steady, those pale robin's egg blue eyes never showing any sign of retreat. In fact, he smiled and let out an amused sigh as he leaned back in his chair. He is a fair colored man, pale of skin and hair and his features elegant aside from his slightly off-centered nose. It puzzled me that he became the King of Thieves when he could have certainly charmed his way up in the world.

Those fine features became only slightly harsh as he considered what I said more earnestly. He rested his chin on his palm and leaned forwards, suddenly looking bemused as if he could not believe that I was serious about rejecting his offer. "Pardon?" He asked, "You said no…?"

Jasper became very still before then slammed his fists against the desk that lay before him and leapt to his full height. Scowling, he was certainly a dangerous looking man, the scars that threaded along his cheek suddenly visible in shadow.

"Aye, Jaser, I said no." Fool. I knew that second, I opened my mouth that whatever I said was going to be a fool's move. The King darkened even more, his gaze spitting daggers as he clenched his jaw and leaned precariously closer to me. My mouth went dry and my legs became soft as butter.

"Consider what lays on the line, boy," Jasper said quietly, his voice hardly rising above a whisper. "Your little family could be brought from the brink of poverty and back to the middle class. Goddess sakes, in Querta your family could even raise to nobility if all the cards were played right. Think of what you are denying yourself… No, think of what you deny your dear mother…"

"She's done fine on what I bring home," my retort was weak, I knew that every day she struggled to scrap up a meal for her baby, much less for herself since father's elixir cost her most of the coin she does have.

Jasper narrowed his eyes. "Think of your little sister then. Blue-skinned, not at all like your mother or father. Her blood is that of those barbaric Xzthen-born elves of the southern coast, hated and scorned. Do you wish her a fate of misery? Stay as you are and she will no doubt be killed one way or another, if not by hunger but by those street rats you call peers. Suspicious, superstitious lot they are. And you cannot protect her always."

"You're the King of those street rats!"

My exclamation only made Jasper smile coldly. Bending closer he hissed. "That may be, but not all my followers respect all aspects of the Thieves Code. Some folk are desperate and do not walk within my circle of control. There are plenty of people in this world who will happily take the life of a young, dark elf girl before she can grow up. Do you want to put her life on the line, especially when it could so easily snap?"

Shivers went down my spine and I closed my eyes. I love Mirage. She isn't my father's child but she is still my baby sister and I would do anything to make things better for her. Jasper knows this.

"Why must I be the one to do this?" I found myself asking.

"Because, my boy," Jasper said, his tone pleasant and patient as he straightened his back, "you have all the reasons to agree and the potential I need in an heir. All you have to do is sign a piece of paper…"

"In blood!" I snapped. He had already told me what I had to do to make everything final. I had to write my full name, in my own blood, on a piece of parchment with a special enchantment bound to it. By signing it, the contract bound me to every detail unless Jasper voided part of it, how he does so I do not know.

"Yes, in blood. That is how it works… So, will you sign it or not?"

I shook my head in frustration. He had me cornered and there was no escape. I knew that if I managed to talk my way out of the contract he would go out of his way to hurt me and my family just to get his revenge. Cruelty comes easily to Jasper, I could see it in his eyes.

Hot tears ran down my cheeks as I managed to croak one last complaint. "I've only eight years. I'm a child in body and an infant in the eyes of my kind."

"But you've the mind of a man of many more years. You can think with more reason than almost everyone in this city. Terry, you are brilliant, talented, and all you have to do to guarantee that your kin is well cared for is to sign on the line. You are quite smart enough to understand what I am offering. So do not plead ignorance."

But ignorance was what I felt. Suddenly I was a child of no more than eight standing before a man of twenty and all I could do was tremble. He saw my weakness and held out a small knife and a quill. With shaking hands, I took the tools. What else could I do?

Closing my eyes, I ran the blade across the upper portion of my uninjured arm, the edge so sharp and fine that I felt no pain. But as my own blood crawled down towards my wrist, all my thoughts scattered and guilt fell heavy into my gut. Whether or not I did the right thing, the moment I touched the blood-dipped quill to the paper, my future was sealed.

My life stolen away by the King of Thieves.

I should have looked deeper into the puddle, perhaps then I would have seen what mama talked about when she said to reflect before making a choice. I should have stayed home when mama told me to. I should have listened to mama when she said not to go a thieving. I should have done so many things differently…

As I drew the quill away from the paper, I opened one eye. Jasper snatched up the contract and grinned like a hungry dragon ready to gobble up his next meal.

"Congratulations Terry, you are now my heir. The follower in my footsteps should any wrong come my way." Jasper announced with a chuckle before he muttered to himself, "Pray to the Goddess you live to see that day." So I prayed. I sank to my knees, blood still running down my arm, my face buried in my hands and silently begged the Goddess to forgive me and to give me her guidance. How I wished it all to be over and to be in mama's arms again. I even curled myself into a ball and cried for her as I've never done before. But then again, I'd never felt like a child of eight years until that moment. How easily things escape one's control…

Goddess give me strength.